


how fitting

by patroclusstars



Category: Percy Jackson and the Olympians & Related Fandoms - All Media Types, Percy Jackson and the Olympians - Rick Riordan
Genre: Angst, BAMF Percy Jackson, Character Death, Dark Percy, Elysium, F/M, Hestia is bae, SAD VERY SAD, fuck zeus, gods are bad guys, luke was right, wait no dont fuck zeus
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-03
Updated: 2020-07-03
Packaged: 2021-03-05 00:54:03
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,218
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25045696
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/patroclusstars/pseuds/patroclusstars
Summary: She wasn’t the first to go of the Seven. The first, shockingly, was Jason. Not shocking, however, was his sacrifice. Always the most noble, that Jason Grace. He always felt it would come to a point like this.Annabeth Chase died doing what she loathed.The Fighting. Always the dam fighting.or, a sad Percabeth fic influenced heavily by The Song of Achilles by Madelline Miller
Relationships: Annabeth Chase/Percy Jackson
Comments: 12
Kudos: 115





	how fitting

**Author's Note:**

> i think i wrote this in 2 hours, i can't feel my brain but my mind is so massive LOL did not edit this at all i think i read it once but i cried a little
> 
> anyway, leave comments & stuff, i don't write often so it'd be nice to hear what u think!!
> 
> enjoy <3

Annabeth Chase. “Born” on July 12, 1993. How fitting that she would die twenty years later, one day prior to her birthday.

“Annabeth was a spark,” they would say following her death. “One of the most gifted demigods I’ve ever met.”

“She could do anything she set her mind to.”

“Nothing could stop her, no one could stop her.”

“Her weapon of choice was a dagger, but the real weapon was her brain.”

“There have been amazing Athena kids, but none as smart or skilled as Annabeth.”

Soon, the remembrances would turn to legends.

“I heard she made her way through Hades!”

“I heard she was a member of the Seven!”

“I heard she wore a Yankee cap and had a laptop! Can you believe it?”

Her friends, her family, would pass down stories about her. Her bravery. Her strength. Her temper and wit. Nothing would be enough though, stories can’t stay alive for long when you’re fighting a war.

She wasn’t the first to go of the Seven. The first, shockingly, was Jason. Not shocking, however, was his sacrifice. Always the most noble, that Jason Grace. He always felt it would come to a point like this.

Annabeth Chase died doing what she loathed.

The Fighting. Always the dam fighting.

After defeating the most recent threat to the world, Annabeth and Percy took a much needed break. They went to New Rome. They had a normal life for once in their lives. Percy visited Estelle as often as he could, Annabeth dove headfirst into her schoolwork, hoping that if she focused enough, she could ignore the gods. Their calls.

It didn’t work.

Eventually, some Titan, some miscreant god, fucking aliens, whatever the case, would pull them back. The thing about Annie and Percy is that they can’t leave innocent people to die if they can help. Unfortunately that was their downfall.

It was during the big battle that every war seems to have, two years after the war started. Two years of back and forth battles, win one, lose another. Two years of the united front of Roman, Greek, Egyptian, and Norse demigods fighting side by side. TWO YEARS of losing friends left and right.

(Historians later will call this war the Final Catalyst. The last straw for our heroes of Olympus. They could take no more.)

It was cold for July, a fog set in over the battlefield, distorting the bodies scattered on the blood soaked ground. That was the first sign.

Monsters seemed to have endless energy, endless manpower, but the demigods were running out of time and people. So many have died, and for what? What were they even fighting for?

Mud was a cause for concern, if they couldn’t stand how could they fight? They were certain, they could win this. Despite the odds there was a renewed sense of hope and duty, foolishness, perhaps?. That was the second sign.

Everyone was so skilled, so experienced, no one thought much of one person taking on multiple monsters. Unskilled soldiers were clogging up the medical tents, the pyre. They had been removed from the equation completely.

Something would go down tonight. It was in the air, electrifying these children, no. These warriors. Good or bad, something would go down.

It was getting hard to see, the fog set in like a dense blanket over the field, smothering and filling their sights, preventing them from seeing more than ten feet ahead. This, paired with the slippery mud, could be a deadly duo, and all seemed to know it.

And deadly it was.

It wasn’t during a big moment, there was no swell of monsters charging at the dilapidated, exhausted army, it was a fluke, but a sacrifice nonetheless.

There was a child. A healer. Gods she couldn’t have been more than twelve. She wasn’t supposed to be in the battle but there were furies in the tent and she needed help! (A small voice in the back of Annabeth’s head whispered that she was that age during her quest. But it’s different now. The monsters hold grudges, they’re meaner after being respawned twenty times.)

Something about that child reminded Annabeth of herself. Fearless. Cunning. She’d spoken to the girl a few times, Siobhan, she thinks, she had the potential for a really good life ahead of her, if she survived this.

A piece in Annabeth’s brain clicked into place. Siobhan WOULD be getting out. No other option, no other thought in her mind.

So when a Cyclops came stalking toward Siobhan, she didn’t hesitate for a single second.

(How fitting that it would be a Cyclops. How fitting indeed.)

It didn’t take long for her to die. She didn’t experience any moment of profound guilt, or have her life flash before her eyes. She looked at Percy, fighting his own battle near her. She remembered his smile. The way his eyes crinkled and his head tipped back when he laughed. She remembered his sea green eyes, his soft skin, the calluses on his hands, the way those hands felt when they enfolded hers.

“I’ll see you soon, Seaweed Brain.” A brief moment of eye contact was all she needed. He knew. She knew too. Annabeth took her final breath, a smile on her face, Percy on her mind.

Percy found her like that. Laying on her side in a pool of blood, arms twisted awkwardly under her, broken, face tilted slightly up, unseeing eyes looking up at the sky, smiling.

Percy saw her. There was a pause in the fighting, he glanced over to see the love of his life, the only person who truly understood all of him, his Annabeth, take her last breath. Immediately dragged into another fight, no time to mourn no time to check her pulse no time to bargain.

(Please Lord Hades please bring her back I’ll do anything Uncle I’ll do ANYTHING GIVE HER BACK TO ME PLEASE! Take me instead please. PLEASE let me die! Let me rest give her BACK. Please. My Wise Girl…)

How fitting that the one person who could bring him back from the edge was gone, how fitting, truly.

Percy was a madman. A whirlwind of color and anger and tears and sadness. Nearly singlehandedly taking out the entire army before the blur died down and stopped next to Annabeth. Taking her in his arms, he carried her limp corpse as far as he could. Limbs shaking, knees buckling, he gently laid her under the shade of a tree, far enough that he didn’t have to see the pitying faces of his friends. He couldn’t deal with that quite yet.

Legs giving out, body giving up, he kneeled over his love, weeping, sobbing, cursing the gods, screaming into her blood soaked shirt, but she stayed still, cold, calm. Death was calm, he noticed.

Slowly but surely, his closest friends found him, clutching her body. They reached out, crying as well, comforting one another, but Percy felt nothing but rage,

Rage at himself for letting her out of his sight. (I can take care of myself Seaweed Brain)

Rage at Siobhan (He knew it wasn’t her fault)

Mostly, rage at the gods. This was all their fault. In the moment it took him to realize this, he also realized that he was right. Fucking gods, sitting up on their thrones, looking down on the earth, on their children, forcing them to fight their wars.

Not anymore. Not again. This ends now.

In the following months the remaining Seven recruited as many people as they could, shrouded in secrecy. No communication of any form that the gods could track or listen in on. Secret meetings with their own secret code. They weren’t taking any chances.

Soon enough, “the Seven” was no longer just Percy, Annabeth, Jason, Piper, Hazel, Frank, and Leo, the heroes of the Second Titan War, the heroes aboard the Argus II, no. It had extended far beyond them. The Seven was the Resistance. Anyone who was angry at the gods, who wanted penance, who wanted revenge.

The Seven was hope. Hope that at last they could stop.

The Hunters sided with the Seven, cutting all ties with Artemis. All demigods from both camps, Sadie and Carter Kane, Magnus and his friends.

(Luke’s problem, all those years ago, was that there weren’t enough deaths that the gods were at fault for. Losses in the First Titan War could be blamed on Luke.

“See children? This is why we listen to and respect the gods, they can protect us from people like Luke, who want to see us die.”)

The Seven would not take that chance, but luckily for them they had firm support from the demigods.

And support from the monsters. Rogue, minor gods, nymphs, satyrs, anyone sick and tired of the way they’ve been treated as second class by the gods on Olympus.

(Percy and Piper have a wonderful gift of being able to convince people into joining them. Annabeth and Jason always thought it was scary.)

The final battle came to a head, not on Mount Olympus, but in the rural Midwest.

“A strategic choice,” remarked Athena before the battle, “No civilians, minimal damage to buildings and infrastructure, no one they need to protect.”

(Percy chose it because he didn’t have the heart to destroy something Annabeth had worked so hard to build. Olympus holds a part of her, and no one can bear to see that ruined, not that the gods understand.)

Ultimately it was a short battle, the gods weak from years of sitting on their asses, the Seven strong and prepared. They had plans the gods didn’t dare account for. Foolishly believing this was just a small rebellion, thinking it would be in and out, wanting a spectacle made of their children.

It was their hubris that led to their demise. Every god on Olympus came out to see the “fight,” leaving enough time for Leo, along with the Athena and Hephaestus cabins to seal Olympus from the gods. There was no way out this time.

Somehow it was enough, between the secret plans, the clear surprise on the gods’ faces, and their many, many, allies, the Seven were the victors.

Of course not all were killed, any god who pledged to never do harm to try to take back Olympus was pardoned! Unfortunately, there weren’t many that the Seven were willing to pardon.

(Apollo and Artemis, Hestia and Hades, were the only ones who actively helped the Seven, and got the reward of life as a demigod, the way Zeus was able to turn Apollo into a mortal oh so many years ago.)

As for the rest of the gods, well… let’s just say that it didn’t work out well for them.

Annabeth was so proud. Nico visited Elysium as frequently as he dared, even though he wasn’t supposed to, to update his fallen friends on the basics of their mission. It took Jason and Beckendorf and Silena a while to wrap their heads around, but Annabeth and Luke always knew this day would come. The day where the demigods said a final “fuck you!” to the ones who made their lives miserable day in and day out. Fuck the gods, truly.

Annabeth always believed that the day Percy Jackson came home to her would be soon, that they could be Annie and Percy, Seaweed Brain and Wise Girl again. Demigods aren’t built to last long, but she didn’t expect it to be so soon after Lord Hades said that the Seven won.

During the sentencing, Zeus, in an unusual show of strength for a mortal, rammed a spear into Percy’s back. Right where his Mark of Achilles had been, all those years prior.

Percy Jackson, born August 18th, died just a day after his birthday. How fitting.

“Percy was terrifying.” They would say. “He was one of the strongest demigods I’ve ever met, capable of taking down far more than you’d believe.”

“He turned cold after Annabeth died, his eyes, once shining with laughter and happiness, turned cold and dull.”

“He kept his smile though, I don’t think any of us would have gotten through what we did had he not been there.”

“He was our leader, but Annabeth was his everything. He wanted to find her again.”

“Percy was my best friend. I loved him and I know he loved me, but his priorities were to destroy the gods, not to protect us.” 

(Grover always regretted the moment he decided to let Percy talk him out of fighting, but Percy wouldn’t listen. “Protect your family,” Percy WAS his family.)

Friends and family would pass down stories, Sally Jackson would tell her grand kids about their Uncle Percy and Aunt Annabeth, and how brave and selfless they were. She remembers her son, her sweet but sharp son, who loved artificially blue foods and always hugged her extra long good-bye. For the rest of the world, Percy Jackson would be remembered forever as the one who took down the gods, not as a boy, but Annabeth wouldn’t be remembered as the reason.

After Percy’s death, Sally found Annabeth’s ashes and spread them in the strawberry fields, family and friends looking on, hoping they found peace at last.

They did. How fitting that it ended where it began.


End file.
